Page 1 of Adonis Gates

Chapter One

Adonis Gates.

“AP, get yo’ ass up. It’s seven fifteen, nigga.” I yelled from the outside of my little brother’s door. I’d already knocked twice so a nigga was being generous. He knew I hated repeating myself.

It was his first day of high school, and at the rate he was going, he was gon’ be late. I had my own moves to make, so I needed to get his ass up out the crib then where I needed to be.

I’d been raising my little brother on my own for the last eight years. Our mother died at the hands of our pops, who was serving a life sentence for her murder, which left only me to get him if I didn’t want his ass in the system. I loved the little nigga more than I loved myself, so I couldn’t allow that shit to happen.

At the time I was an eighteen-year-old kid my fuckin’ self, planning to take my ass to college on a basketball scholarship that I’d lucked up and got, but shit quickly changed when my mother passed. I was pissed with myself for not being there to save her from her demise, but I was gon’ save my brother. I couldn’t fail her again.

I didn’t have a job and shit, so the state tried giving me a hard time when I applied for custody. Luckily, I had got close to oneof the hood’s OG’s, Vado, who put me on his payroll at his auto shop and helped me get a lawyer who ultimately assisted me with getting my brother. I was forever grateful for the nigga so I made sure none of his bread was ever short when payday came around.

I’d been hustling my ass off, working the blocks at night and cutting hair during the day. When I was a youngin’ my mother couldn’t afford to send me and AP to the barbershop. She was too busy supporting her husband’s habits. She did manage to buy me some clippers and shit though, so I taught myself to do the shit, and got so good that I was cutting everyone’s shit around the way. I needed better though; some shit that I could pass down to my brother in the future which was why I was going to meet with a realtor after I dropped him off at school to see about buying an old shop downtown.

“AP, I ain’t sayin’ the shit no more.” I barked, hitting his door again.

“I’m up!” he shouted before I heard him mumbling under his breath. I didn’t care though, as long as he got his ass the fuck up.

I made my way to the living room area which was littered with an ass of boxes and shit that AP and I had packed up. We were finally moving out of our old spot. My grandma left the crib we grew up in to my mother, and after she passed, we had nowhere else to go, so we were still there. I’d finally got my money up enough to get a new spot, and I felt like AP needed the shit. He’d been beefing with the lil’ niggas at school and shit for years, so I was getting him in a new environment for high school.

While he got ready, I started to move some of the shit we had onto the moving truck. I had a few smokers from around the way that I’d gotten straight to help me as well as my homeboy Ziggy. The fiends were more than happy to help once they realized their method of payment. My work was way more potent than the stepped on shit they were used to getting from Brock.

Brock used to be my man. We went back to the sandbox where we first began running together. Some niggas were fucking with him, trying to jack his lunch and shoes since his mother always had him in the most up to date shit. I stepped in and beat the niggas asses for him because I couldn’t stand bullies, and we’d been rocking since.

Brock didn’t grow up in the hood like I did, but he wanted everyone to think he had. I didn’t understand it. He came from a two-parent household where both of his parents loved and took care of him. He had food on the table every night while I was often wondering where my next meal was coming from. That shit ain’t matter to him, he was a tyrant, always giving his folks a hard time. Shit got worse when we started to kick it.

When I met and started working with Vado, I brought him with me. He wanted in on the hustle, and because he was my man, I had Vado put him on too. The shit lasted two years before I pulled away from him and we split the city in half, creating the North and South Sides. I could have axed the nigga all the way out and ran the whole shit alone, but I wasn’t a greedy nigga. There was enough money for everyone to make, and as long as I could take care of my brother, I was good.

Brock didn’t share the same sentiments and was salty because he knew whether we split shit in half or not, the fiends were going to navigate to me. I was the one that cooked the shit up to perfection and could sell salt to a slug, he was just the face of the shit because I liked to be low key. When I fell back, he had to learn to do all the shit on his own and was failing miserably because the streets were dry on his side of town.

“You took my box out the bathroom already?” AP finally appeared.

I glanced up and took his skinny ass in. Nigga was the spitting image of me. He knew I liked to keep myself up. Evenbefore I had money in my pocket, the lil’ shit I did have was always up to par.

“You ain’t want to put no heat to them fuckin’ pants?” I frowned.

“You packed the iron too.” He shook his head.

“Shit still on the counter.” I pointed behind me.

AP was always trying that lazy shit, and contrary to him acting like he was a grown man at times, he was still a baby that wanted me to do every fucking thing for his ass.

“You gon’ do it?” he asked like I knew he would. “You iron better than me.”

“You gon’ help take this shit out?” I quizzed and he groaned. “Exactly. Iron yo’ own shit. And hurry yo’ ass up because I told you to do it last night.” I fussed as he walked down the hall.

“Check you out, in here soundin’ like someone’s mother.” Ziggy teased when he walked in.

“Fuck you, nigga.” I chuckled before slapping hands with him. “‘Bout time you brought yo’ ass on.”

“Had to meet with the truckers on the wake up.”

Ziggy had his own trucking company that we used for transport. It was small because we both agreed that we didn’t need a massive team to get the numbers. As long as everyone pulled their weight, we would see the results we were looking for.

Zig started to help move the boxes to the truck, so I went back to check on AP. When I entered his room, he had the music playing and was half ass ironing his pants.

“Apollo, come on man.” I chuckled, stepping into his room fully and walking toward him. I nudged him out the way and folded his pants correctly before demonstrating how to properly iron them. He was smiling hard as hell as I did the shit because this was exactly what his little ass wanted.